


Bedfellows Politics

by qthelights



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-24
Updated: 2011-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qthelights/pseuds/qthelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different night, a different light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedfellows Politics

“Why are you being a whore on twitter?” Misha asks, slides up to Sebastian and pins him against the counter-top in the guest trailer. He takes the opportunity to pinch at Sebastian’s waist, warm cotton and skin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Am I?” Sebastian smirks as he swats away Misha’s roving fingers.

Misha can’t help but grin. “Don’t be a dick, you know you are. They’re getting all riled up.”

Sebastian mirrors the smile, teeth and lip, before finding Misha’s hipbones and pulling him in flush. Misha exhales sharply as the air is knocked from his lungs.

“I’m just doing what you do. Making friends,” Sebastian says, ducks his head down to lave at Misha’s throat with his tongue. It never fails to hitch Misha’s breath, stir his cock into interest.

“You’re being an ass. And kinda fifteen...” Misha says, eyes sliding shut as Sebastian’s teeth graze his collarbone wetly on their way up his neck.

Sebastian chuckles softly against the shell of Misha’s ear and the sound is warm and heavy and goes straight to Misha’s cock where it’s pressing against Sebastian’s hip. “Like I said, darling, I’m just doing what you do.”

Misha snorts. “I have never sounded like I was fifteen.”

He pauses, then amends, “well, except that one time I was doing Britney.” 

Sebastian hums in amusement, sucks Misha’s earlobe in between his lips and tongues at the soft flesh. Misha moans low in his throat, a throbbing purr of his larynx. 

“Fuck, Sebastian,” he hisses quietly. His fingers go to Sebastian’s belt, nimbly starting the unbuckling process.

“I notice you don’t deny that you’re an ass though.” Sebastian says, his gaze fixed on Misha’s fingers as he loops the leather back, unhooks it from it’s metal clasp.

“I earned that,” Misha clucks disapprovingly, letting the belt ends dangle and popping the button of Sebastian’s pants, flaring open the fly. Sebastian's already hard and straining against the pale blue cotton of his underwear; a darker stain of pre-come marring the hue. 

The only thing that goes through Misha’s head is how much he wants to taste the colour.

The laugh that follows draws Misha’s gaze up to meet twinkling blue-grey eyes. “Yes, you promised them a naked picture,” Sebastian laughs.

“I did not,” Misha huffs, and he momentarily forgets what he’s doing in favor of indignation; the fact that he’s still confined and aching in his own clothing goes unheeded.

Sebastian grins and leans forward to nip at his bottom lip; his teeth are sharp and a frisson of pleasure-pain skitters down Misha’s spine. 

“Yes you did. Rocky canyon? Nude man standing in it? Jogging any memories?”

“Fuck,” Misha swears, amazed at being bested at his own game, “I totally did.” 

“It’s okay, we’re all wrong sometimes,” Sebastian goads with a wink. “Let me make it better, yes?” 

A split second and Sebastian is cupping Misha’s erection and pressing hard.

Misha shudders and only manages to get words out with difficulty. He fights against the desire to press straight through Sebastian’s skin. “Not wrong,” he mutters, “You’re still being a dick. It’s embarrassing.”

“Jealous, Mr Overlord?” Sebastian teases. He starts rubbing his palm in slow circles against the bulge of Misha’s cock. It’s all Misha can do to press back, his breath hitching.

“Hardly,” Misha snorts. He grants that it’d be more effective without the gasp attached to it. “You’re just going to lose them all if you keep treating them like love-struck teenagers is all I'm saying, man.”

“Nah,” Sebastian says, seemingly losing patience and descending greedily on belt loops to get into Misha’s pants. “They know it’s all play,” he adds, but it sounds distracted.

“Do they?” Misha asks and the question is serious even if it’s backed by a moan as Sebastian’s hand slides in under his underwear and grips the hot flesh of his cock like a vice.

Sebastian shrugs, slides his hand back up and slips Misha’s underwear down and over. “Well they will eventually. Not my problem if they haven’t caught on yet.”

“Nergugh.” Is all Misha manages to reply as Sebastian hooks his own underwear down out of the way and slaps their cocks together, wraps his hand around them both. 

“ _Fuck_...” Misha pants, head snapping forward, his face pressing into the crook of Sebastian’s neck as the man’s grip tightens. “You really are doing what I do, aren’t you,” he mumbles against skin.

The smirk comes through without the visual. “I did try to tell you.”

“Sebastian?” Misha mutters against the salty skin of Sebastian’s neck.

“Yes?” Sebastian asks, and he sounds amused.

“Shut the fuck up and get me off,” Misha growls and nips sharply at the corded muscle of Sebastian’s neck.

Instead of answering, Sebastian growls and squeezes their cocks together almost painfully hard. Misha keens as the other man’s hand increases in speed, slicking with their combined pre-come and sweat. Sebastian’s cock is like steeled-silk fire against his own, sticky skin sliding back and forth as Sebastian’s hand pulls and pushes. 

Soft sounds of breath and slicked skin follow, whimpers and grunts of exertion.

“You know you like it when I copy you,” Sebastian huffs low in Misha’s ear, stubbled skin brushing Misha’s cheek. 

And the thing is _he does_ , Misha admits. No matter what it looks like, how ridiculous and egotistical and plain stupid Sebastian comes off, Misha knows it isn’t real. He knows it’s all part of this _thing_ , this dance, this courting.

And he fucking loves it.

Misha jerks from head to toe, a full body shudder that rips pleasure through him and he cries out loudly; spilling into Sebastian’s fingers, along his cock. Sebastian follows only seconds later, groaning low and coating them both in a further layer of translucent white. 

Long moments pass as they breathe, cocks softening in Sebastian’s gentled grip, the mess between them growing tacky.

“Told you,” Sebastian quips eventually, nudging Misha’s head up and leaning in to kiss him softly. 

It’s hours before either of them gets back on Twitter.


End file.
